Vermilion Sanity
by Kink Fluff Angst
Summary: Red John came at him with a knife. Patrick Jane/Sofa
1. Bloodbath

Red John came at him with a knife.

With the ancient revolver out of his reach, Patrick Jane through his arm up in front of his face. He felt it immediately, the sharp metal slicing through his skin. It was a pain like no other, his entire arm felt like it was on fire. Crimson blood spewed everywhere, all over him and Red John.

With his other hand, Jane cracked his assailant right above his right ear. Red John staggered back, giving Jane a few precious moments to collect himself. The pain in his head and arm was dizzying, and he tried to ignore the warehouse spinning. He had to get to the revolver. He lurched forward just as Red John charged again.

In a single movement, Jane lifted the piece of metal off the concrete floor. He let off one shot.

It missed.

Red John smirked, coming closer as Jane stepped back.

"You're not going to kill me, Patrick. Want to know why?"

Jane did never get to know why.

He shot again, this time the bullet burying itself in Red John's shoulder. The serial killer stumbled backward.

_Blam._

His chest. Red John collapsed, falling backward.

Jane stood directly over the poor excuse for a human being and emptied three more rounds of lead into its chest. The revolver fell with a clatter.

He was exhausted.

Red blurred his vision as he being to look around for his sofa. _I could really use a nap right now_, he thought. Bright lights danced in front of his vision. They were annoying. All he wanted was some peace, so he could finally sleep.

He felt his knees give out just as the doors slammed open.

"_Jane_!"

Now, what was Lisbon doing here? He was just about to doze off.

"Lisbon-" his tongue felt like cotton. "My sofa."

Jane's face was introduced to concrete, and darkness engulfed him.

**TBC...**

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**a/n: le gasp! a multichapter! I hope the fight scene wasn't too hard to follow, I dont usually write epic battles to the death. not a lot to say, but I'll probably break my under 2000 words theme. oh well. **

**also: jane/sofa?**

**hell yes.**


	2. Sane

Patrick Jane hated hospitals.

They reminded him too much of prisons and being closed in without an escape.

The walls were too white, the smell was too much like death and antiseptic. Like someone poured bleach into a grave. Kind of like when a killer tries to clean up a blood spill, but doesn't do it thoroughly enough, and you can still smell blood above the lemon-scented cleaning odor.

It was just after 12 PM, two-well, three- days after Red John was no more.

He had been such a mess when he entered the hospital, unconscious and concussed, with blood pouring from his nose and forearm. He had lost so much blood, and spent most of yesterday sleeping. The team had come by, and when Jane awoke the next morning, a single blue balloon hovered in a corner. No flowers or cards, just a single balloon to show that someone had been present.

It had been late in the after, around five seventeen when the team had come to visit once more. Everyone looked lined and tired, but there had been a brightness to their weariness. It was the fact that Red John would never kill anyone every again, no more bloody smiles would line anymore walls.

When Jane caught Lisbon looking at him, she quickly turned away, embarrassed. Her gave her a somber smile. "Do I really look that bad?"

Jane gave in his statement. Sticking (mainly) to the facts. After a while of timidly standing around (hospitals make everyone uncomfortable) they loosened up and reveled, breathing in oxygen, comforted by the fact that Red John would never take a breath ever again.

His head had just begin to ache when Jane looked every member of the team in the eye and said two words:

"Thank you."

Cho nodded, Van Pelt gave him a weary smile, and Rigsby said, "We got your back, man."

A frowning nurse popped in. "Excuse me," she said curtly. "Mr. Jane needs his rest, and visiting hours are over in five minutes. Please finish up." And she left.

Rigsby and Van Pelt left together. Cho joined them after giving Jane a "Take care of your self."

Then, there were two.

Lisbon stood idly in the corner, dallying by the blood ballon stuck to the ceiling. Jane gave her a half look before sliding his eyes closed.

After a moment, he spoke. "How did you find me?"

Lisbon shook her head. "You're more predictable than you think."

Jane opened his eyes. His boss stood at the foot of his bed, _fuming._

"Wait, shouldn't you be weeping over my lifeless body-?"

"Not lifeless _yet_, Jane, although it will be when I'm done with you." Her brown eyes glinted, tears nearly falling.

"Lisbon, that's not fair, threatening an injured and concussed man," he gestured to his arm in the dark blue sling.

"And who's fault is that, Jane? Its _yours_, for taking on Red John, _alone_. You really are completely insane."

"Well, obviously-"

"What if you _died_, Jane? Or worse, what if Red John got away?"

"Or worse? Damn, Lisbon, you had me for a minute. I thought you actually cared about me-

"_Of course I care about you, you dolt._"

Jane was quiet while Lisbon continued.

"I know Red John is-was-yours, but next time, please warn me before your go marching into a warehouse armed only with an ancient revolver. Speaking of which, where the hell did you get it from?"

"I had it," Jane answered quietly. "For emergencies. And, hold on Lisbon, what do you mean, 'next time'?"

Lisbon looked taken aback. Her voice faltered. "The next time you chose to do something stupid. The next case."

Jane closed his eyes again. His head was pounding steadily, and he wished for Lisbon to go away. She hadn't realized that once Red John was no longer an issue, Jane wouldn't be coming back to the CBI. He himself figured to be dead or on the run at this point, anyway.

A nurse came in, telling Lisbon visiting hours were over, and that she had to leave.

Gathering her coat, Lisbon said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Jane." The clock read six forty-nine.

In barely a whisper, Jane answered:

"You'll miss me."

When he opened his eyes again, it was 12:06 PM. The blinds were drawn, and the only the lamp on the bedside table was on, casting a gloomy light. Jane's back ached on the hospital mattress. He longed for his brown sofa and its soft leather exterior.

He wondered when he would return to the CBI with his resignation papers. Lisbon would never let him leave, especially not with the sofa. He figured he'd have to go when no one was around.

And when that thought entered his mind, Patrick Jane sat straight up.

**TBC...**

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**a/n: part two! aww yeah! I think this might be the last one for the night, maybe not. I think this story is only gonna have four parts. yes, a multichap, kink fluff angst style xD. Oh god I'm going _insane_.**

**Anyway, tell me what you think, I'd love to hear feedback on my first multichapter :D**


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